The Masks We Wear
by FollowTheRabbit
Summary: Picking up after the events of The Dark Knight Rises and The Man of Steel, Batman and Superman encounter the aftermath following the monumental catastrophe that nearly causes the world to be terraformed by the Kryptonian: General Zod. With funding from the U.S. Government, LexCorp begins mass producing special weaponry to destroy Kal-El and the Dark Knight must choose his side.
1. The Light Mourning

**Prologue**: _The Light Mourning_

Bruce's eyes were cold and dark. His face was stone, yet Selina stroked his chin affectionately and kissed his cheek.

"One of these nights you're going to need to sleep, Bruce," she muttered as she rolled out of bed. "After what you've been through, after what you've done, your body should be begging for some down time."

Bruce did not move from under the covers, instead he used his eyes to pierce through Selina's, causing her to let out a deep sigh.

"You know, sometimes I wonder if you ever wanted to give up your cape and cowl at all. Sometimes I wonder if you would be happier beating up petty criminals with your walker while coughing at them with that deep scratchy voice forever. Haven't you ever wanted to start a family?"

"Selina," he spoke firmly, "I love you, but there's something missing from my life, something I just can't explain. I don't know why I can't sleep, I just want…more…of something – or less. Bringing a child into this corrupt and evil world is the last thing I would want; especially with no one around to fight for justice. Any family we would have could only exist in a world with a safe Gotham."

"You're no longer Batman, Bruce. You gave that up three years ago. They think you're dead, and it's better that you leave it that way. If you returned now, they would keep wanting more and more until they bled you dry," she said before taking a brief pause.

"If you were to ever go back, you would be going alone. I couldn't watch you suffer and give everything like that again. Not for those people."

"Selina, I…" Bruce said before trailing off. "I need to go into town today, there's a man who needs help remodeling his home and I told him I would."

"Changing the subject again? Jesus! There's no talking to you about anything remotely personal before you lock up and slip your armor back on. Why don't we talk about Gordon? Or Alfred? Or Lucius? How about Rachel? Why don't you open up to me, Bruce? Talking about these things might help you to move out of the past!"

"Selina!" Bruce shouted as he sat up, his eyes now bright as fire, "Talking about these things does nothing, _nothing_! You know who I am and what I've done, and I figured you of all people would understand the need for secrets to be kept. I've spent the last three years thinking about what I've done, what I could've done, what I couldn't do, and it's brought me nothing but pain! And I'm not going to sit here and talk about it for one more second."

Bruce then got of bed, grabbed his jeans hanging from a nearby chair, and yanked them on before storming out of the room. He walked through the living room to his boots and put on a white t-shirt. While he slipped on the boots, he heard Selina say something from the bedroom door, but he didn't respond. He swung open the front door and stepped out, letting it slowly close behind him as he walked away.

In the doorway, Selina watched him as he walked farther and farther from her sight. A single tear found its way from the corner of her eye down her cheek, but she did not stop it from falling. She let it go.

It was dark when Bruce finished remodeling the house, and he felt exhausted. He began to walk home the usual way when he noticed two men across the street eyeballing a pretty young girl who was walking alone. Crossing over, he put himself between the two men and the girl, and reached into his pocket to pull out the money he had just earned. Combing through the notes, he let one slip to the ground near one of the men's feet.

"Oh I'm sorry, do you mind grabbing that for me?" Bruce asked with a grin.

"American?" One of them spoke up. His face was already beginning to look excited as he reached up to twirl the facial hair under his chin.

"Why yes," Bruce said with a sense of disbelief, "How did you know?"

"Lucky guess," the man replied as he reached down to pick up the money. He then stood back up with a revolver drawn in his hand. "Not so lucky for you, though. Give us what you got and we might let you walk away alive."

"Oh no!" said Bruce with a sense of terror, "Please take whatever you want, just don't hurt me." He reached into his pocket quickly.

"Hey, hey, buddy not so fast!" the other man said. This one had on a red cap and looked very uneasy about what was happening.

"Of course," Bruce responded, "Maybe one of you should take it then."

"Go ahead," the man with the facial hair said, motioning to the man with the red cap to take the rest of the money out of Bruce's pocket.

"Fine, keep still, American," he said. He walked up to Bruce indignantly and reached his hand into the front right jean pocket before ripping it back and letting out a yelp of surprise as smoke puffed out.

"What, what happened?" the man with the facial hair shouted. But it was too late. Bruce had already ducked around the red capped man, and landed a left hook into his face, knocking him back onto the ground. The red capped man stumbled from the smoke, but by the time he regained his composure, he had received the same treatment from Bruce's right fist. Both men were out cold in seconds.

"Still got it," Bruce mumbled to himself as he disappeared up the street without a sole seeing him.

There was a knock on the door, and Selina walked over to open it, but was surprised to find nothing there but darkness.

"Bruce?" she asked the night.

"Behind you," he said plainly, grabbing her by the waist and spinning her around quickly.

"Jesus, Bruce, you startled me!" she said with a scowl on her face. But as she met his gaze, her anger quickly disappeared. His eyes had a shine to them, a shine she hadn't seen in years, and he swooped her off of her feet, letting the door close behind them as he carried her into the bedroom. The lights went out, but neither of them slept until the sun began to rise.

When Selina awoke, she had a huge grin on her face. She rolled over to cuddle with Bruce, but found his side of the bed cold and empty. Her eyelids parted, and her gaze fell upon a note that rested on a newspaper. Looking at the story on the front page of The Daily Planet, she read the words: "Super-Man Exists, Alien Attack Imminent!" She then read the note Bruce had left, and found that there were only three words. She closed her eyes, let out a deep breath, and let the piece of paper fall to the ground.

_I am Batman._


	2. Chapter 1: Metropolis Shrugged

**Ch. 1**: Metropolis Shrugged

"How do you like working for the Daily Planet so far, Clark?" A young peppy brunette asked, her brown eyes sparkling up at him as she spoke.

"Oh, uh, it seems pretty swell so far," Clark replied, instantly ostracizing himself for using the word 'swell.' As he readjusted his new black rimmed glasses he added, "I mean, it's a true honor to be working for such an esteemed newspaper, and you've all been so kind."

"Aww, well don't mention it, hun, we like to think of this place as a family, so don't go trying to make yourself a stranger. Remember, we're not just a newspaper, we're an investigative team; we find out everybody's dark secrets eventually," she said chuckling. "Have a good one, Clark!"

"Oh, thanks -!" He trailed off after realizing he didn't remember her name. Thankfully he recognized a familiar face rounding the corner and smiled.

"Getting to know the staff pretty well so far, superhunk?" Lois asked softly.

"There has got to be a hundred people working in this place," Clark replied, "In all honesty, I'm not sure I even remember your name anymore." Upon seeing Lois' reaction, he added, "I think it started with a 'P'?"

Throwing the back of her hand into his chest with a quick smack, Lois' mouth widened and she let out a quick snicker, "You better watch it mister; I'm kind of a big deal around here. I can get you fired just as easily as I got you hired. You will never work in this town again."

"Oh really?" Clark replied. "So who is going to save it the next time something bad happens?"

"Me, of course," Lois answered without hesitation. "Just like last time."

Clark grinned and opened the door to Lois' office, "After you my hero."

Triumphantly stepping forward as if to be crowned, Lois nodded, "Thank you kind sir, now bringeth thy hero a frothy beverage, preferably of the coffee variety." She paused before adding, "Two creams, no sugar."

"Right away," Clark said before stepping out. As he turned the corner away from the office, he ran into a tall, well kept man in a button up shirt and tie who immediately made eye contact and reached into Clark's right hand with his own.

"Glad to have you aboard, son," The man said sternly. "Perry White, Editor in Chief. Lois speaks highly of your ability with a camera."

"Yes sir," Clark replied.

"Good," said Perry sternly, "Because if you don't know how to point and click in this day and age, you have bigger problems than cameras." He then let out a hearty laugh and slapped Clark on the back. "My goodness, boy, you're built like an ox!"

"Well I grew up on a farm," said Clark.

"Ahh, a farm boy! I'm a product of the rural life myself. These hands went from raising cattle to raising one of the most influential newspapers in the entire world." He then paused. "Then again it's also one of the few newspapers _left _in the world." Perry then began laughing uncontrollably causing Clark to try to join in with a very awkward laugh himself.

"Perry, is that you out there?" shouted Lois from inside of her office. "If you're holding up my coffee, then so help me!"

"Well, I best get goin," said Perry casually with a glint of fear in his eye, perhaps remembering the last time he had to work with an angry Lois Lane. "But I'm going to tell you exactly what I tell everyone else when they start working here: Report the news, don't make it. Check your facts, and get the story right. We print the truth here, and the only reason people pick up our paper instead of double clicking their life-leaching box is because they trust us to give it to them straight; capisce?"

"Yes sir," replied Clark.

"Good, you'll do fine here. Just do whatever Lois says -"

"Like getting my coffee," Lois chimed in again from inside her office. "It doesn't walk itself!"

Clark grimaced as Perry went by, thinking about how he would ever represent the truth while living behind a false identity to all of these people. He wandered over to the kitchen area of the office and poured a cup of coffee, adding two sugars to it before returning to Lois' office and handing it to her.

"Sweet nectar of the Gods!" she cried before taking a sip. Clark took a seat next to her desk and looked through the floor with his x-ray vision to see the man in the office below them sleeping in his chair.

"A bit distracted today, hmm?"

"Sorry," Clark said looking up, "Is it obvious?"

"Well apart from the sugar in my coffee instead of cream, there is the blank stares and social awkwardness," she responded, cocking her head slightly to the side. "Are you ok?"

"It's hard to explain."

"Try me, I've interviewed dictators. I've interviewed activists. Hell, I've even interviewed politicians. Everyone has their story, and it's never easy to explain," Lois said. "Try me."

Standing up and closing the door to the office, Clark let out a deep sigh and said, "Where do I begin? All of my life I grew up knowing I was different, and when I finally found out who I am - _what_ I am – I kill off any chance I have of answering that question. My planet. My people. They're gone, Lois. I'm all that is left and the only others of my kind that I have met were homicidal and filled with anger."

"You got to meet your father," Lois spoke up compassionately.

"Only a shade," Clark replied.

"A shade of a great man who cared deeply for his son; a man who trusted his boy to make the right choice when the time came. Human. Kryptonian. It doesn't matter. What matters is that you chose not exterminate an entire race and you fought for what was right. In the end, isn't it about justice?"

Before Clark could respond, someone knocked on Lois' door.

"Hold onto that thought, Clark," said Lois. "Come in!"

"I'm sorry if I'm interrupting," the brunette from earlier said as she came into the office.

"Not at all, Jenny," said Lois.

"_Jenny_," Clark mumbled to himself quietly.

Jenny gave Clark a sincere smile before looking back at Lois, "Guess who's going to be at the Wayne Charity Event in Gotham tomorrow night?"

"No way," said Lois as she perked up in her chair.

"Just confirmed it with a very, _very_, reliable source!"

"I need to book a trip," Lois grinned.

"Already taken care of," replied Jenny, "For you and your new cameraman here." She looked back at Clark, "Separate rooms though, of course."

"Jenny, you're amazing!" said Lois. "Tomorrow night, I'm finally going to get that interview with the most powerful man in the world: Lex Luthor."


	3. Chapter 2: A Manor of Speaking

Ch. 2: A Manor of Speaking

The clouds were heavy tonight. The pale moon, barely visible in sky, reflected a light polish onto the docks of Gotham below. It was a perfect night for scum to be lurking; and John Blake knew it.

Standing on the roof of an abandoned five story industrial building nearby, he watched carefully through his night vision binoculars as Dr. Jonathan Crane and two bigger, more muscular men got out of a large black SUV. Crane was empty handed, but each thug with him was holding a fully automatic assault rifle. All three of them were wearing masks that were made from a stitched up burlap bag. This came as no surprise to Blake, who had been following these men for over a month, watching their movements, tracking their shipments. But what he still didn't know was who did the buying or what was in the large crates that they always traded. Based on the size of the crates, he guessed some sort of weapons, but until he got his hands on one, he would never know for sure. But he did know where they were going: to the port across the bay, Metropolis.

Tonight he was going to find out what was in the mystery crate. Tonight he was going to stop waiting around for something to happen and actually get his hands dirty. Reaching into the pocket of his trench coat, he pulled out a black ski mask and slid it over his head before rappelling down the side of the building with a rope he had tied around a large chimney stack.

_If you're working alone, wear a mask._

As he reached the ground, he slid off his harness and crept over to a large metal shipping crate. He quietly peered around the corner to spot each man and noted that one of them had a slight limp in his left leg.

_I'm not afraid to be seen standing up to these guys._

He then pulled out two marble sized objects and rolled them behind the three men and grabbed a small mine from inside his pocket.

_The mask is not for you. It's to protect the people you care about._

The two marbles made a sputtering noise and began spewing out smoke, causing the three men to turn towards the action.

_Count to five, then throw._

Blake threw the mine, which landed behind the trio and caused a quick and sudden explosion. Startled by the noise, they staggered into the smoke where Blake met them with two nightsticks drawn. Striking the man with the limp first, Blake cracked his kneecap with the stick in his right hand. Meanwhile the stick in his left hand followed through in an uppercut motion into the man's jaw. He then kicked upward, landing the blow into the chest of the other armed man causing him to fall back several feet onto the concrete. As the smoke cleared, Crane looked around and found himself all alone.

"It can't be you!" he shouted out, "You died, you're…you're dead!"

"_Crane_…" Blake whispered behind him, causing him to spin around quickly into the arms of the masked vigilante. Blake then lifted him up by his shirt collar and asked with a gruff voice, "What's in the crate, doctor?"

"You're not him, you're a wannabe!" Crane yelled, which prompted Blake to hit him in the nose. "Jesus!" Crane screamed, "That's not how this works!" Blake then hit him in the nose again. "Gahhh! Alright alright, just stop hitting me! They're guns." His eyes were watering now and his nose began to bleed profusely.

"Guns? What kind of guns need to be shipped out in secret in the middle of the night?" Blake asked.

"The illegal kind?" Crane retorted, which prompted Blake to rear his hand back again before Crane stopped him, "Wait, wait, wait. They're specialty guns. Meant to hold some kind of high powered toxic bullet. Some gunsmith in Gotham has been making them for an anonymous buyer in Metropolis who only goes by AL."

"When did you even get into the gun selling business, Crane?" Blake growled.

"Hey, it's tough on the streets right now; a guy's gotta make a living."

Out of the corner of his eye, Blake saw red and blue lights flashing down the street.

"Uh oh, looks like the cavalry is on its way," Crane laughed, "You better run before they lock you up with me in Arkham!"

Blake pulled out a zip tie. "Hug the pole, Crane," he said motioning towards a light pole nearby. He then ran to a nearby manhole that he had left open and climbed down into the sewer, carefully sliding the top back over the opening before descending.

At the bottom of the ladder, Blake reached up and pulled off his ski mask, replacing it with night vision goggles he had found in the Batcave. The sewer was suddenly illuminated with a green light, and he began to walk. As he turned a few corners, he found his way to another ladder which he then ascended to find the batpod, one of the few remaining pieces of technology left to him from Batman. Mounting the retrofitted motorcycle, he rode back through the dark narrow roads that led to Wayne Manor and the Batcave entrance, enshrouded in a waterfall on the southeast side.


End file.
